beyondtheline | I sure like the feeling of an endless road

I sure like the feeling of an endless road

[A few hours of open road makes for easygoing fun. It's great to be traveling again, and the feeling of Chrissy leaning up against his back, holding on tight while he whips ahead on a wide-open freeway through the pitch black of night is like nothing else. The last time they were racing up and down this freeway, they were on the way to go burn a bunch of people's lives down - but now that's hours back, back with the rest of the city. They've left the lights and have nothing to look at but the pavement in Johnnie's headlight, the glimpses of stars shining weakly through hazy clouds, and occasionally an oncoming car.

Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.

But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]

Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.

[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[As he peers over Dale's shoulder to see into the bag, the sight of its contents chills him something deep. He can't help but have a visceral reaction to just seeing it - he knows what it does, what it has done, to him, to Johnnie, to who knows how many others.

The World Enders don't exactly set many limits for themselves or for what they opt to sell. Anything that turns a profit and that helps keep these streets in their influence is useful to them. But somehow, this shit has proven to be a step too far. Unless the Ender himself says they need to reconsider, and so far he hasn't.

Anyway, Rigo doesn't really want to concern himself in all that reasoning. This shit sucks and it needs to go, and they need to stop the flow of it before whoever is still in charge of selling it becomes a problem for them. He gives a firm nod in understanding and agreement.]

Vale. So we gonna burn this? They must have had cash on them too.

[As in, don't toss the whole thing in the fire without checking all the pockets. Not that Dale needs to be told, but Rigo's focus is on practicality here without letting Dale go all internal and pissed off at himself too hard. Responsibility weighs too much sometimes.]

[He appreciates Rigo in times like this, when he's running red hot and wants to just smash heads and set shit on fire. Those are great things to go out and do, but he needs to make sure they get things taken care of properly. He can't leave it for Alex to figure out, or delivery shitty news at the end of the night.]

Yeah, later. We'll burn this shit once we're up there.

[He's got half a mind to take it to whoever is up there finding and distributing the shit to be sold, and do to them what they did to Johnnie. Black braining someone isn't something he'd like to do but it might be necessary to send a message. They can burn what's left.]

When we get up near that fucker's place, let's hang back and just watch for a little while. I wanna get an idea of what's going on before we drop in.

[Say no more, then. Rigo gives a nod, an affectionate slap of a pat to Dale's back, then wheels his bike around to face the street.]

You lead, I dunno where the fuck we're going.

[He knows where. Mt. Monroe is, but it's a whole damn mountain. For once, the ridiculous flirting of chasing each other across the streets will have to take a back seat to navigating.

Well, sort of. Because he knows generally where they're going, "you lead" is a suggestion at best. They have to go north, and he is going to go north fast. Partly to keep the fun in things, partly because for all they know this shit is urgent and getting there a few seconds earlier might matter.

But also because the faster they get there, the faster they can smash some skulls and put a stop to this shit. Dale wants caution, but Rigo knows what they both want is blood. Revenge for everything they've been put through.

So it's a race to the exit, and then Rigo eases off on the throttle and lets Dale pull ahead of him for good. There's not that much real stealth they can achieve, probably - the bikes make plenty of noise as they cruise up the winding hillside roads. But maybe Dale has an idea, or maybe they'll just be passed off as nothing important, two people out for an evening ride.

The fire from the house had spread fast that night, he can see that. Trees all up and down the slopes still show jagged black scars of charcoal on their bark. It was one hell of a thing they did up here, taking Z'Oiseau on at his own home and the mountain will show those wounds for decades.

Good.]

[Dale isn't exactly aiming for stealth, but he doesn't want to fuck this up. As they drive past the destruction they caused though, he's filled with that rage all over again. He wants to set the entire area on fire all over again, but this probably isn't going to call for that.

By the time they reach the compound, where everything is definitely charred and in ruin, restraint is forgotten. The gates that once stood strong are propped up and tied together with rope. He revs his engine and motions for Rigo to move up beside him. If they both hit those gates at the same time, they'll knock them over and surprise anyone that might be inside.

Whether Rigo notices the gesture or not, he's charging forward, pulling his front wheel up to hit at the gates in the way. It's half practicality, half showing off. But it's all the way pissed, and he tries to channel the same energy as the World Ender as he barrels onto the scene.

Only to find...a parked black Continental and not a single person that he can see. Zazo's stupid fucking mansion is in pieces, barely anything is left standing. But the area where his garage was is half-intact, and there's definitely sign of a light on in the area.

He stops his bike and kills the engine, kicking the stand into place so he can get off.]

Someone's here. But where the fuck are they, beneath where the garage was?

[There's only one way to find out. He motions for Rigo to follow, and leads the way into the rubble to find a concrete staircase leading down beneath the ground.

Whoever is here is definitely beneath the garage. Great. A fucking tunnel system.]

[They smash through the gate together, and the bike's shocks only absorb so much of the impact, leaving Rigo's skull rattling for a brief moment as the vibration of the metal and the thud of the tire back down to the pavement rolls through him.

But he shakes it off, well-practiced, and stops right next to Dale's bike with his heels on the driveway. What the fuck is going on here?

How he wishes he'd seen this place on fire. Must have been one incredible bonfire. It's a wonder that anything is left intact at all.]

Rich bastard had himself a little survival bunker, huh?

[Asshole. What is it with rich fuckers anyway? He stuffs a hand in his pocket to get his fingers through brass knuckles, and doesn't hesitate at all to trot himself right on down the stairs.

There are lights strung up with a cord connecting them that runs along the ceiling. The tunnels stretch onward only a short distance before a bend to the right, and the corridor beyond has a row of doors lining its right side. Those would have been under the house, once. But at the end of the corridor is another door, alone - large, heavy, but slightly ajar, with only darkness visible beyond it. Music is playing down there somewhere, and it winds its way toward them. Classical, orchestral.

The hair on his nape rises, fills him with prickly heat.]

You said this dude had guards, right?

[Once. Maybe they missed some though, maybe someone came back and is making a living out of his old boss' ruined quarters. Someone who knew the rooms down here and wanted to make an easy profit off of the remnants.

If it's something like that, he expects the guy to be armed. They'll need to be at least a little careful if they don't want to get shot in the dark at a bottleneck.]

Situation like this calls for a flamethrower.

[Dale's on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck rising the further they walk down the corridor. The music playing really is unnerving, and he's half expecting to see the man himself if they barge through the doors down here. There is no way he and Rigo are equipped for something like that, because if he's back after whatever the Ender did to him, he's far more powerful than any of them realized.

Except maybe Johnnie, but when do they listen to him?]

Only rich old white men listen to this shitty music.

[He knows it's called classical, and it's supposedly a classic and educational. But he thinks it's classist bullshit and right now it feels unsettling. He really does wish he had a flamethrower on him.

There's no other sign of life other than the music playing. As they edge in closer to the door he can hear voices. Two of them. Neither of them belong to Z'Oiseau. Thank fuck for that.

He pulls out his handgun and readies himself as he reaches that partially open door, and he quietly moves to push the door open the rest of the way. Rather than wait, he shoots first. His first shot misses, but the second shoots one of the men in the leg. He drops to his knees, but not before firing back.

Dale barely avoids that one, and fires again. It goes wide, leaving the other person in the room to -

Wait.]

Aren't you the mama's boy that pissed himself earlier?

[How the fuck did this kid beat them up here? And where's his car? The kid doesn't answer, obviously, because his eyes are ridiculously wide and he's trembling because what the fuck are these guys doing out here? How did they find him?]

I-I-It's my brother.

[He points to the guy on the ground, and Dale can see they're probably about the same age. Too bad, maybe they could've been friends and gone out for a drink in some other lifetime.]

We thought -

[Dale fires his gun and hits the older brother in the leg again.]

I don't give a shit what you thought! You had your chance. And you fucking blew it.

[He has one last round, and it goes straight into the forehead of the older of the two, and the kid behind him shouts in terror as his brother collapses to the ground. No more ammo left, but that's fine. He's wearing the backpack, just in case they found an opportunity to burn what's inside.]

Grab him. Hold him down.

[He's filled with rage and a need for revenge, a desire to clean up this mess and make it stop so anyone else thinking of using this place for Vide Noir can think twice.

The backpack is swung over his shoulder and opened, and he grabs a few vials in his hand.]

One of these sends you out to the cosmos, right? Wonder what every single one of them left in here will do you.

[They won't have to wonder for long. They're about to find out. The second the kid realizes it he tries running for the door.]

[Seriously, what the fuck is going on here. That kid again?

They could have killed him earlier, easily. But here is better. Here, these two idiots won't be found by the cops, not any time soon. Maybe not ever. Here, they can do whatever they want - and Dale does, quickly, with a few shots.

There's no way that twerp can make it through the door past the two of them. Rigo smirks as he bends his knees and stands ready to pounce. The door is the only way out that he knows about - and apparently the only way out that kid knows about too because he tries anyway, but Rigo gets his arms around him and throws him to the floor hard. After being shaken up in his sad little wreck earlier, maybe the kid's brains are pre-softened, because all he does as he hits the floor and slides into the wall is gasp and curl up with a cry of pain.

Still, Rigo isn't leaving any chance for this kid to slip past him suddenly. He gets a knee on the little idiot's chest and presses his weight into it, and grabs him by the hair and chin to still his head and hold his mouth open. The kid twists and yells and tries to bite and shove, but Rigo stays put, only shifting his hand from the boy's chin to his throat to squeeze.

The boy gags and claws at Rigo's wrist, but at least it means he's not shoving at him anymore.]

That'll make you stop crying, huh, huerito? You got in real over your head on this one.

[Holy shit, Rigo is fucking hot right now.

He's been putting back on weight and muscle, and getting to see him pin that kid down and squeeze his throat? He might get hard watching it all. Thankfully he doesn't, because that would really make this weird. He pockets all but one vial and uses his teeth to tear off the cap. It's spit out as he approaches the kid, and decides to appreciate Rigo's hotness by grinning over at him as one hand is at the boy's throat and his hand goes to his chin to forcefully pry his mouth open.

The vial is dumped into his mouth, and Dale's hand stays right at his chin as the kid chokes down Vide Noir. The second vial is torn open and poured down, then the third. By the fourth, it's oozing out of his mouth. But Dale doesn't stop, not until all six vials are empty and on the ground. The kid has gone from sobbing and choking to gurgling and murmuring. He's not dead yet, but he will be soon, judging by the way he's paling and convulsing.

For a second, he sees a flash of Johnnie's face. And being met with the grotesque reality of what his brother probably went through makes him scoot back and away. Johnnie's still the one slumped against the wall, Rigo's hand at his throat. He glances away to look at the other guy, and when he looks back his baby brother is gone.

Dale sneers at the boy, annoyed he's met the same fate as Johnnie when he's nothing like this crying pathetic kid. Johnnie can be spoiled, he can be annoying. But he's also a force of nature. A hurricane. It doesn't sit right with him that he went out like this, alone in the middle of the desert.]

Leave him. Johnnie died alone and afraid, this fucker can too.

[He hauls his foot back and kicks the kids leg as hard as he can. There's no pained sound, nothing but slightly faster and shallow breathing. That only makes Dale more furious and he storms out of the room to tear into the others and look for what product is left.]

[It is admittedly a little difficult to watch this kid drowning in the drug, but Rigo steels himself against the twist in his stomach. This fucker doesn't matter. He needs to pay for what he tried to do, but in the end he's going to die one way or another, and this way at least lets them have some retribution. Lets Dale have it, particularly. Johnnie might still be with them but it doesn't mean what happened to him just gets forgotten.

So consider him confused when Dale suddenly scoots backward. He glances back over his shoulder at Dale's face questioningly, then lets up at Dale's request. The wording there explains enough about what had spooked him.

Rigo stands, giving one last long look at the kid on the floor, black liquid streaked down the sides of his face and pooling around his head like the opposite of a halo. The lights in the room don't even reflect right in it, casting odd colors that don't exist, that his eyes can't see but that he knows are there regardless somehow.]

I'll check this one, then,

[He calls after Dale as the other man leaves. Can't hurt to get a good stock of what's going on in here, since those kids were in here for a reason. First thing he does, though, is lift the damn needle off the record to put an end to that annoying whine of violins, and then he starts going through cabinets and drawers.

He doesn't find much of use doing that, not at first. This room was some kind of weird underground lounge, probably in case of needing an emergency place to hide away if there was a fire or some kind of nuclear apocalypse - that would explain the heavy metal doors, as well as the music and the wine rack, the small kitchen in the back corner and the various lounge chairs. He opts instead for checking the pockets of the two on the floor in the room - the kid has almost nothing on him, but his older brother has a wallet, which Rigo pockets.

On his way out, he makes one last check, and that's when he catches it. The drawer in the table under the record player is deeper on the outside than the inside. A good thump loosens the bottom of the drawer, and when he fishes around inside he finds a heavy skeleton key.]

Ey, compa, got a key here. You see a lock?

[Dale doesn't respond right away. He's still seeing red, mingled with Johnnie's face. The image of what that kid looked like is going to forever haunt him, and remind him of exactly what his brother looked like as a corpse. He doesn't know how to handle the emotion that he's feeling, so it comes out as blind rage. It boils over and he destroys everything he touches in the other few rooms. He throws and smashes, kicks and shoves.

It makes him feel a little better.

Which has him able to actually take notice of a door at the other end of the corridor by the stairs that's propped open with some bricks. He peeks inside and takes notice of a couple of chairs, some discarded wrecking bars, and a gas powered lantern. There's a big red door in the wall, one with a lock that looks like something out of a movie.

Z'Oiseau was dramatic as fuck.

With his rage subsiding, he makes his way back to Rigo, who apparently has decided to keep the corpses company. Weird, but whatever.]

Hey, there's a door with a lock on it. Might be a safe. It looks like these two were trying to get in. Maybe there's a key around here some -

[Or Rigo will be holding it in his hand. His eyebrows arch, and he intentionally doesn't look at either dead body in the room. Normally that shit doesn't bother him, but maybe he's feeling something close to regret for the first time. It doesn't sit well with him.]

Was that on one of them?

No. False bottomed drawer.

[He raises his eyebrows and flashes a smile as he brushes past Dale in search of the door.]

Older kid had a wallet too but that was kinda it. That, and a lot of expensive-looking wine. We better help ourselves to some bottles once we're through here.

[Not that he can tell the difference between expensive wine and cheap stuff, but it sounds indulgent.]

Or we use it to help us burn those bodies. Probably better than drinking it. I'll buy you a bottle of tequila with whatever's in this wallet.

[He gives Dale a wink, then pockets the key and starts clearing all the stupid shit those kids had left in the hallway out of the way of the door. It unlocks easily after that, and he pulls it open.

It is pitch black inside there. There's probably a light switch somewhere, but fuck if it doesn't look foreboding. For once, he sort of wishes he was on all fours so he could see better in the dark, but Dale has probably had enough of being freaked the fuck out for the day.]

[Leave it to Rigo to make him snort and roll his eyes in amusement. But watching him leave the room first makes him go back to smirking at least, and he follows him down the hall to unlock that door. The darkness doesn't bother him, and he pulls his lighter out of his pocket to flick it on and attempt to locate a switch or a pull chain or something.

He eventually finds a panel of switches on the wall and switches all of them on. Lights slowly flicker on, and he laughs in disbelief once he realizes what they are.]

He actually spent money putting lanterns on the wall.

[What a waste.

This room though, isn't a waste. It's a big space, with shelf after shelf of wooden crates. He doesn't have to look to see what's in them. Those two guys wanted to sell Vide Noir, this has to be the stock they were hoping to score.]

We need to use the wine to burn the bodies, and all of this. And I bet this isn't the only back stock he has laying around the city.

[The sheer volume of those crates makes Rigo's eyes go wide.

Fuck it though, he's going to verify instead of assuming, because while it's easy to guess at what's probably in there, he wants to know. He goes back for one of those wrecking bars and shoves it into the gap between panels one one crate and wrenches it open.

This stuff isn't packaged into little gem-shaped bottles yet. This is metal cans full, stoppered and set upright, each labeled with a number, a date, and some sort of loopy scribbles he can't decipher. Maybe a foreign language, or an invented one.]

Well, we better get started. This whole room has to go up. There must be a map or records somewhere of the other storage areas, right?

[Or the guy just remembered them, maybe. Not everything gets conveniently written down.

But this is frustrating. Kind of enraging. He knows how hard Dale and Alex and the rest worked to track down and destroy the rest of this shit - shipping containers and trucks full of it. Evidently they weren't thinking there was so much more hidden away in underground bunkers, too.

And that makes him think of something.]

Hey. If I was going to stash a bunch of shit underground where nobody goes but where it'd be real safe, you know where I'd go? Those old military places up in the hills. Like the one we went to with your brothers.

[They're abandoned, vacant, but off-limits. And it would probably be trivial for a guy with money to chain up some gates and take them over. Especially if he paid for permission for the right person.

Either that, or the old train tunnels, but the Enders run around in those often enough that they would have seen something by now, right?]

Yeah.

[He breathes out the word, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. This is an overwhelming amount of Vide Noir, and he can't imagine more rooms full just like this.]

Yeah.

[That's said more solidly, and he glances over at Rigo with a grin.]

When did you become so smart?

[He means it affectionately, and for a second his hand claps at Rigo's cheek. This isn't the place to be all sappy or anything. So his touch drops away, and he heads out of the room to go retrieve that wine. He motions for Rigo to follow and help, and they end up getting a crate of wine back into the stockroom.

They each uncork a bottle with their knife and alternate drinking and dousing the room in alcohol. It's not exactly fun, but getting to drink makes them laugh a little as they ready the place for their lighters.]

[For that one second Dale's hand is there, Rigo bites at his thumb, but misses and laughs as Dale pulls away.]

It's a wonder I didn't completely melt my head doing this stuff, huh?

[Or other stuff. Or alcohol, which he works on melting that brain with until everything is soaked in wine - the crates, the bodies, a nice long puddle out toward the stairs. The fire is going to be huge and neither of them really should risk inhaling vaporized vide noir, who knows what that would do.]

You ready?

[On the count of three, then - and with the fire lit, they need to run fast. Up the stairs and out toward the car, while below them, the fire races toward its targets. There's the sound of cracking, popping wood and overheated metal, and soon, ink-black thick smoke begins to billow upward.

Rigo pauses to watch it rise, and backs up one step at a time toward the bike.]

That better get it all. Shit, though, the cops are gonna be up here soon as they see all that.

[It's not quite dark enough for the smoke to be hidden against the sky. They better get moving.]

Let's go.

[He watches it all for a few more seconds and turns to head back to his bike. The last thing they need is to be caught by cops, it'll add more onto Alex's plate. They ride out and speed down the mountainside, doing their usual traffic weaving as a form of flirting once they're on the highway. Slowing down doesn't happen until they pull in back at the apartments.

Alex isn't back yet, which is fine. After all that he just wants to get high and enjoy what's left of his night until sunrise. They laugh and shove each other as they jog upstairs to their unit, and make their way inside. Dale has every intention of going to roll a few joints to share, but first he stops Rigo from making it past the door by grabbing at his shoulder and pushing him back against the wall. It's a lot more fun to kiss him when he's manhandling him into place.]

Thanks for coming with me tonight. I couldn't have done that without you.

[While that probably isn't completely true, it feels true enough to say it out loud.]

[Not only was he expecting this, he was hoping for it. He grins, teeth against Dale's lips for a moment, before grabbing at his shirt and jacket, wrapping his fingers into a fist to keep him close.]

It was a lot more fun than sitting here listening to Osvaldo go on about whatever his summer classes are. I think there was some kinda math?

[Actually, he probably would have wound up at the gym. But there's always time for that later. Business first, especially when it means making sure Dale doesn't freak the fuck out about black braining some kid all on his own.

He can taste the wine on Dale's lips still. Maybe he can get drunk off it, too. He needs those kisses, needs those hands on him.]

You know, I never thought watching you boss kids around would be such a turn on.

[But holy shit he's still thinking about it. Grinning, he grabs hold of Dale's jacket lapels and pulls, working his jacket off his shoulders - and with some help in getting it off, he tosses it to the floor. It can go live with the rest of their scattered clothes.]

[Dale laughs, cool and confident and so sure of himself. Hearing Rigo say all that makes him feel more like himself. He lets his jacket be pulled off, and hums softly as he hears it hit the floor. Rigo's has to go next, and he tugs it off to discard on top of his own.

Things were slow and almost a little sweet earlier when they were high and fucking around. He has a white hot heat running through him that leaves him physically aching for Rigo. He kisses him like he needs it to breathe, as he works his hands beneath his shirt and feels at the muscle all that work at the gym is starting to perfect.

That shirt has to go though, and so Dale tugs it off and throws it over his shoulder.]

Fuck, I thought the same thing. Watching your hand at that kid's throat...

[He groans at the memory, and sucks at Rigo's lip before his mouth nips and drags teeth along his neck instead. All the while, his hands work open Rigo's jeans. He can get those off himself, but he wants to help him out a little. They're still standing right inside the doorway, but that's fine. They've got plenty of time. They can fuck right here and then again somewhere else later on if they still have it in them.]

[He can't help it, he groans at the way Dale says those words. Even if it was his hand he's talking about, it makes him shiver with anticipation, straight to his dick.

So how convenient, then, that Dale goes straight for his pants? Rigo laughs a little under his breath, and helps shimmy out of his jeans, eager to have them off anyway.]

At this rate we're close to a nudity only policy in here. Barely even walked in the door.

[How excellent. How perfect. He's growing hard in his underwear but he needs Dale naked the rest of the way, and he needs to taste him, to have him closer, all at once. Conflicting needs. It's awful.]

So get your damn clothes off, compa, it's policy now!

[He laughs as he tugs at Dale's shirt to pull it over his head and fling it onto the couch.]

Oh, policy huh? Fuck, I guess I gotta follow the rules.

[This is hilarious to him because he, like every other World Ender, never follow any rules. But he can play at being a good boy and following along with whatever policy Rigo sets for him tonight.

He works at his belt and then his jeans, and gets both off to kick to the side. He laughs as they go flying, and he works his socks off before paying attention to his underwear.

His cock is already getting hard just from anticipation and desire alone, which would be pretty fucking pathetic if Rigo wasn't so hot and all his. As soon as he's naked he's moving in, palms against both of Rigo's cheeks to keep him in place for a searing kiss. His hands drop down to his sides, lightly touching him, before slipping back to cup his ass. Not to get all poetic or anything, but he's pretty sure Rigo has a perfect ass. He grins at the thought of that, as he sucks at his lower lip and breaks the kiss in favor of leaning back just enough that his arched eyebrows can be seen.]

See, what I was thinking is you could worry less about policy. And more about getting my dick into your mouth, maybe.

[Romance.]

Policy's only good when it's sexy anyway.

[Facts. Hard ones.

He doesn't let Dale pull away for long. Those lips, those squeezing hands, make any gap between them an affront to his needs. And he can't help it, he lets out a quiet little gasp of a moan at what his mouth apparently should be doing - shit. Shit, that wasn't supposed to be audible, but too late and who gives a fuck.

Rigo makes up for it (so he decides, anyway) with a smirk, and by licking his lips.]

"Maybe"? It's hot when you know what you want. So let me show you what you want.

[One more drag of his teeth against Dale's lips in something that might qualify as a kiss, and then he sinks down to his heels and takes Dale's cock in one hand.

"Maybe". Fuck off. He's going to tease him for that. And for all these dumb policy jokes, too.

The grin vanishes from his face as he puts his mouth to use, licking a long smooth trail up the underside of Dale's cock, keeping it grasped tight in his hand otherwise. He's the one in control here. He breathes an exhale of hot air right at the base of that cock where it's still damp with his spit, then sucks at the tip, working the tip of his tongue under the foreskin.]

[Let me show you what you want.

Fuck why does that go straight to his cock? He doesn't really have time to dwell on that before Rigo is making good on his promise. His lips part as soon as he's touched, and the sound he makes when he feels that tongue against his length can best be described as a whine.

His face turns red at how easily he's reduced to that, at how insanely into this he is. Sure, Rigo's in control. It's hot, it's fun. He can stay in charge as much as he wants. His hand presses down against the top of his head, and fingers grab at his hair when he feels warm breath against him.]

Fuuuuuuck.

[There's a lot he wants to say, probably should say. But all he gets out is that, and it's pathetic because it's yet another whine covered up with an attempt at a growl.]

You can take on more than that, can't you? You're supposed to be showing me what I want. Or are you gonna be a little fucking tease?

[It's a halfhearted attempt to take control. He just likes running his mouth. They both know that if he really wanted to press the issue he'd just grab Rigo by the head and make him take more. He's not an asshole though, at least not with him, and he's enjoying this enough he'll see where Rigo takes it. There really isn't any rush.]

Mmhmm.

[Is that yes he can take more on, or yes he's going to be a little fucking tease? That's for him to know and Dale to discover.

Which probably means tease by default, but whatever. At least he doesn't intend to keep teasing for long. It's just to make fun of Dale, because that's how their friendship - relationship? - whatever, works.

A moment more, then, of kissing along the shaft, tonguing at sensitive veins, and then he lets his hand slide as low as it can while his mouth descends to take its place. He bobs his head slowly, giving firm strokes of his tongue. As he gradually picks up the pace, his fingers touch at Dale's balls, then press at the little sensitive spot right behind them and stroke in time with his mouth.]

[Watching Rigo suck his cock so eagerly has got to be the single most erotic thing Dale has ever gotten to witness. He's fucked a lot of people, been fucked his fair share. But there is something about Rigo that's intoxicating and addicting. His desire to want to take control never melts away completely, but rather than force him to do what he wants he uses his hold on Rigo's hair to move his head in time with the pace he's set.

Fuck, he loves it when he's teased. But he sure as hell loves it a whole lot more when he's getting what he wants.

He groans, loud and unashamed, and lets his head fall back against the wall for a second.]

You are so fucking good with your mouth. Making me lose my mind already.

[That makes him chuckle, even as he groans. Unable to help himself, his hips rock just a little. He's not trying to make Rigo choke on his cock or anything, but it's not like you can fight instinct.]

[Losing his mind isn't good enough, he does that every time he gets high. Easy feat.

Less easy is trying not to laugh at his own stupid inner commentary while sucking on the guy's dick. But the urge to do so dies down quickly enough. He doesn't mind sucking cock, but for Dale he enjoys it. Every little whimper and groan and shiver, the feel of fingers in his hair showing him just how good he's doing - well, that's fun.

Dale wants faster, clearly, and Rigo lets him set the pace. Anything to bring him to the edge and over it. Meanwhile, the hand grasping at Dale's thigh flexes, feeling firm muscle as he carves little curved half-moons into his skin.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject